terrible things - ashton irwin

fifty two

A hand came down and touched my shoulder, and I jumped like I'd been burnt. I looked up through tear-blurred eyes.

Ashton's face, seeing to float above the bed like a ghost's. And then his familiar low voice. He said, "Lav? Are you okay?"

I nearly fell over. It was him. He was alive. "Do I look okay?" I yelled. I crawled back up onto the bed and gripped his hands as if he'd rescued me from drowning. Never in my life had i been more relieved. "Tell me: do i look okay? "

"Your eyes are sort of red," he said, his voce groggy but teasing. "Are you allergic to Mabel or something?"

"I'm going to kill you," I gasped. I let go of his hands and lay down next to him in the bed, pressing myself against his side and trying to calm my breathing. I'd been so close to losing him.

"Oh, you probably won't have to bother," Ashton said. "Something's already on that job. But don't worry I'm still around to torture you."

"Never stop," I said.

"I'll do my best." Ashton patted the edge of the bed, and Mabel hopped up, too, though it was obviously not easy for her. I watched him per her soft head and ears. He yawned and then moved around the bed, restless and uncomfortable as he woke up to his sickness and the pain it caused him.

I ran my finger along the side of his cheek. "Do you want anything?" I asked.

He didn't answer me. His eyes closed, and I thought he was falling back to sleep. He'd been sleeping so much lately. As his breathing became more regular, I slowly eased out of the bed and went to the door, ready to check on his parents. Then he said softly, "Yes."

"What?"

"I want more time," he said. His lashes were dark against his pale skin.

I bit my lip and felt the sting of tears again. "Okay," I whispered. "Coming right up."

When I was in the hallway, he called me back.

"Lav," he said, half-sitting up again. "Listen, okay? First thing: Mabel does not need another treat, no matter how much she thinks she does. So leave the Milk-Bones in the pantry. Second thing: there's a hole in your shirt, and you should get my mum to sew it. Third thing: like that dumb Mason Jennings song says, there are so many ways to die."

I held up a hand. "Whoa, Ashton-"

He ignored me. "It doesn't matter what the end looks like, what matters is that it came. Bam, you're done. But life, Lav? There are degrees of life. You can live it well or half-asleep. You can go sledding down a sand dune, or you can spend your life in front of the TV. And I don't mean to sound like a stupid after-school special, but you have to keep living the way we did these last weeks. Risk, Lav. That's the secret. Risk everything."

I nodded, trying not to cry again. "Okay. But I might not keep stealing cars."

"That's all right," he said.

"What am I going to do-?" I asked. I couldn't say the final two words of the sentence: without you.

Ashton smiled. "You should probably try not to fail physics. And you should keep writing."

I thought of my journal, the sloppy, haphazard notes in it and all the pages to be filled. At least I'd taken some pictures on our trip. "I'll write the good parts."

"No, you have to write the good an the bad," Ashton picked at the edge of the blanket. HIs eyes were so huge and serious. "You can write all about me, and I'll live forever that way."

What could I say? I sank down onto a chair and put my head in my hands.

"You know, yours was the only book I ever wanted to read. So just write it, Lav. You can do it. You can do anything. I mean, look at you. You're not GG anymore, you're so much bigger than her."

I laughed bitterly. "I don't miss her."

"I loved her," Ashton said. "And I loved the sick girl you were when I met you, and I loved the good student and the bad driver. I loved the car thief, the hitchhiker, the quoter of novels I haven't read, the hater of Slim Jims...Lavender Moore, I've loved every you there ever was."

I walked over to the bed and laid my head on his chest. "I'll always be your girl," I whispered.

"I know," he said.

I watched the way our fingers intertwined, and I thought, What are hands made for but this? For holding. For holding on.

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word count - 771

bAHAHHA did i get you guys? I'm mean but not that mean :)) Tones of love, vote and comment xoxo

-Charlotte